Nitesky
by xthesebonesx
Summary: Having a rough time readjusting to her life post-death, Jeremy makes an unexpected decision and takes Bonnie to see the one person that he believes can make everything right; Damon Salvatore. But what happens when Damon seems to have more in mind? & How will he handle his conflicting feelings for Bonnie, as well as Elena?-Set after 5x22.


_The nightmares didn't happen the way that nightmares usually do._

The feeling where you were screaming, or drowning; running or suffocating? She never felt that. She never felt like the pain or the agony that you could only experience in a terror. Hell, she never even felt distressed or anxious or worried, honestly.

The worst—the absolute _worst aspect_—of her "nightmares" were that they weren't actually nightmares, at all. They were dreams—_visions and memories, mostly_—of her afterlife. They were hallucinations about the time that she died—when she was sucked into the white light—and made to find _peace._

Her nightmares were about finding that peace; finding that peace with _him._

_With Damon Salvatore._

She'd dream of the beautiful flowers—her favorite ones, the lilies—that grew on the green grass. She remembered the feeling of the sun on her skin; the sight of the morning dew in the air. Whatever it was Grams had done, it had sent them to paradise; actual _paradise. _Paradise, where they had no concept of space or time—where there was no one else.

_Where it was just them._

Them and the cute little cottage by the lake that they made their own.

_She loved that cottage so much._

Sometimes, when she woke, she'd keep her eyes shut—just a second longer—to remember the feeling of being absolutely _happy_; of being absolutely _free _from the world and it's burdens, even if she had no idea if she still existed within that plane or the next.

With her eyes shut, she'd run her fingers over the soft cotton of her pillow—savoring each touch, each fiber—until she gently opened her olive eyes only to see she was staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom in Mystic Falls.

She was no longer in her world—_their world—_she was here. She was back; back at the place that she could have never imagined leaving three years ago. The place that she _had _left once upon a time to bring Jeremy back—to ensure that Elena would have the summer of her life.

Mystic Falls—the place that used to be her home and her shelter—now felt like little more than a prison. Being here felt like a jail sentence, after what she'd experienced; after the beauties of the true afterlife that she had seen.

Rivers whose water never went dull, stars that never lost their sparkle—_eyes that never looked a deeper shade of blue._

Bonnie swallowed hard when she felt his arm wrap around her waist and she turned to face him; his brown hair flopped over his brow, and his pale skin receiving just the right amount of morning light.

She tried her best not to cry.

"Bonnie, are you okay?" he asked as he sat up a bit; pulled her in closer, which only made her want to sob even more.

She nodded 'yes,' even though they both knew that was a lie. And before she knew it, she was crying again. Real, human tears, as they flowed down her cheeks and onto her jaw—inevitably onto his fingertips as he tried to wipe them away, though they were falling faster than he could imagine.

"Do you want me to—"

"I'm fine," she interrupted him.

She wasn't. She wasn't fine at all.

He held her for the next few moments in silence; his lips on her hair as he kissed her head lightly before he finally spoke again, and Bonnie squeezed her lids shut.

"I'm gonna call Damon," Jeremy said, much to her surprise, as she reopened her eyes. "I… think you should see Damon."

XXXXX

He doesn't enjoy Bourbon as much as he used to.

Then again, his tolerance is also a joke, and so is he now.

Because he's a human; a pathetic, lowly _human._

It was something about the witchy juju that some witch in NOLA used, his brother explained, that was able to bring both he and Bonnie back into this dimension. Or as he liked to call it—back into his personal _hell._

He found himself conflicted, most days—with grief, happiness, and then grief again. Because he feels selfish, for not being more grateful that his brother and the love of his life went through so much trouble—quite literally bended the laws of _gravity_—to bring him back; to bring them _both _back.

And don't get him wrong—seeing them again, shocked, and with happy tears in their eyes the day he's resurrected—does something to him he can't quite explain. Something he knows he should be thankful for; thankful because these people gave a damn about him; because these people loved him.

They _still _love him.

He and Stefan are much better than they were before; actually acting like _brothers, _for the first real time since 1864 and he still can't even begin to adjust himself to that. To the idea that he and Stefan aren't at each other's throats and they actually do things, like talk and play pool, now.

Stefan still even has their football, and every once in a while, they go out to the front and have a good throw. It's nothing like it was before, except that it is; only now, they're more willing to admit it. He's less afraid to show it.

As for Elena, it takes less time than he thinks for them to get back together.

He was skeptical that they even _would _at first because it's been three years—because time changes people.

But after they come back—and after he starts to readjust to life as a human—Elena makes it clear that she never gave up on him; that she never gave up hope that he was out there, waiting to be saved, and he thinks that's admirable. Completely admirable that she still believes in him; that she still _wants _him.

Only, he doesn't have the heart to tell her he gave up on being saved a really long time ago. He doesn't have the heart, when she's hugging him at the shoulders, to tell her that he missed her too—only, he misses his after life, just as well.

And he certainly doesn't have the heart to turn her away the first time she initiates sex, again. Because it's been way too long and the way her fingers molded against his hair felt way too good for them to stop. And because he's a human and _she's _the vampire now—and that kind of changes things. It changes their dynamic.

But it's always afterwards, when Elena's lying within in his arms and he's just _thinking_ that he remembers.

He remembers what it was like to be _gone_; to pretty much evaporate into thin air, as he and Bonnie were taken towards the light, and dropped in the middle of a place that could have doubled for a more natural, more _ordinary _form of heaven.

Waterfalls, fields, _the everlasting summer breeze —_it was like being happy didn't have an expiration date, or a time limit. And though he and Bonnie didn't _plan _on getting stuck together, or even like the idea initially very much—he does eventually start to warm up to her.

He starts to accept the fact—and his fate—that this is who he'll spend the rest of his _non-life _with, forever. And one night, probably six months in as they sit quietly in front of a bonfire, he knows Bonnie is beginning to accept it too.

How does he know?

She starts to refer to their _old lives_; she starts to talk in the past tense. And slowly but surely? He does too.

It's one of the things he has the most trouble with correcting when he comes back to life.

Damon snaps out of his thoughts when he hears a knock on the Boarding House door and he puts down the glass of alcohol that he wasn't drinking anyway and he gets up to answer it.

When he opens it up, he's equal parts annoyed and surprised—because it's none other than Jeremy Gilbert, standing before him.

Buffer than ever, with some weird scruff on his chin, and his hair nearly touching his shoulders.

Damon had been gone for three whole years and even _he _got a haircut the second he came back. Caroline, more or less, told him that he looked like a caveman.

He wholeheartedly agreed when he looked in the mirror.

"Gilbert, to who do I owe this pleasure?" he asked stiffly, though he had one of two guesses what this impromptu visit was about.

His sister or Bonnie. It was never about Bonnie, though. And sometimes, that saddened him.

"It's Bonnie," he says and immediately Damon feels his human heart speed up as he watched Jeremy lick his lips, defeated, before he continues. "She's depressed or something… And I don't know what to do anymore. I was hoping you did."

Damon's brows furrowed as he stared back at him—as if he wasn't even speaking the same language—before he cleared his throat and shrugged a shoulder.

He hadn't seen Bonnie since about a week after they came back but that hadn't been his choice at all. She'd been avoiding him and though he loved to say he didn't know why, he did.

Because this was the way things ought to have been; them severing their forced friendship because he was no longer a vampire and she was no longer a witch and they only ever really got along when it was Elena's life on the line and they had to do something about it, right?

_Right?_

And now that they were back—adjusting to the present—and she was back with Jeremy and he was with Elena, there was no more need for them to talk. There wasn't a need for him and Bonnie to be anything, despite all that he had seen of her—_all that they had been through._

The reality was that these were their lives now—and they could never make it back to paradise, even if they tried. What the hell was he supposed to say to Bonnie when he didn't even know what to say for himself?

"Seems you're shit out of luck, Gilbert. I don't know how to cheer Bonnie up. And I definitely don't know why you're here."

He attempted to slam the door in Jeremy's face but the wood stopped as he pushed it back open and Damon licked his teeth.

It really sucked not having his super vampire strength anymore.

"She's in the car," Jeremy said and Damon's eyes widened as he looked just beyond him and saw he was right—Bonnie was staring ahead as she sat in the passenger side of Jeremy's Jeep, and he took in another breath. "I couldn't leave her alone; I thought she might hurt herself."

"So you pawned her off on me?"

"No, I _brought _her to you because… As much as I hate to even admit it, you know Bonnie a _hell _of a lot more than I do right now," Jeremy said as Damon followed his eyes. "You spent three years _alone _with her, Damon… She was all that you know…You were all that _she _knew."

Damon's stomach tightened at that as his eyes surveyed the car again—taking in the sight of Bonnie sitting there, not moving an inch, not even to look at him—as Jeremy stared at him frantically; _pleadingly._

He wanted to see her—he knew that much. But the fact that Bonnie hadn't wanted to see him —probably still didn't—is really what chewed his pride up on the inside.

Why should he help her when she so clearly hated him? Why should he be there for her when she so obviously couldn't do the same?

Why was he even still contemplating this?

"Jeremy, I—No. I don't know what you thought this would accomplish but I can't…She _won't. _Besides, Elena will be back with Caroline from wherever they went soon. And I don't think Bonnie wants to talk to them either—"

"Did you two _talk _the entire time while you were in paradise?" Jeremy asked and Damon's heart spiked a little bit before Jeremy cleared his throat and clarified what he meant. "I mean…Were there ever any times when it was just _quiet? _When you two didn't say anything at all because nothing needed to be said but you just…_needed _each other there, anyway?"

Damon remained stoic before he begrudgingly nodded. He remembered that. He remembered the tranquil silence.

"Be there for her, Damon," Jeremy said softly as he met his eyes and chewed at his lip. "Be there for her the way that you used to be…Because I can't do that for her. Nobody else will ever know what she's going through except for _you… _You're not helping me, Damon—you're helping _her._"

Damon let out an exhale at that—one that was chockfull of nervousness, honestly—before he nodded and Jeremy sighed with relief, before running back to the car and opening Bonnie's door.

Damon watched from the distance as Jeremy spoke to her for a minute—Bonnie never saying a word in response—before finally, she got out of the vehicle and walked quietly behind him. Her arms wrapped protectively over the chest of her summer dress and Damon took note of her long brown waves that cascaded down her shoulders and she hadn't bothered to chop back into her bob when they awoke back in Mystic Falls.

Her green eyes looked up to meet his when she now stood at the door and he felt his stomach twist into an unsettled knot though Bonnie never flinched or changed her expression.

The melancholy in her eyes didn't lift the moment she saw him; she wasn't miraculously _cured_ and he could tell Jeremy was a bit disappointed at that when he placed a hand on her back and kissed her softly on the cheek.

"I'll be back in a few hours, okay? If you want me to come sooner, just call."

Bonnie didn't give a verbal confirmation to that—she barely even acknowledged him at all—and so Jeremy walked away and back down to his car. His eyes glanced at the two just one more time before his engine roared and he pulled off.

Bonnie was looking at the pavement again and Damon squeezed his fist tightly to relieve some of the tension in his fingertips before stepping aside and offering her a clear past into his home.

She only looked up when she heard him clear his throat.

"You know you're not a vampire, right? I don't have to invite you in."

Bonnie swallowed hard at that but didn't say anything as she slowly—tentatively—walked past Damon into the abode. Her eyes casting on the furniture around her as she realized that most of it had changed.

She was guessing that was because the Travelers had been occupying everything until the Mystic Falls Gang got rid of them, once and for all.

The place still looked good, just very…_different._

Bonnie moved away from her thoughts when Damon shut the door behind her and walked down the short steps and towards the bottle of bourbon and an empty glass she presumed was now for her.

"Drink?" he asked politely as she still surveyed the space around her. "I've been working on mine for the past…_hour._"

Bonnie sucked in a bout of air before finally nodding, and Damon steadied his hands long enough to pour the contents into a glass for her. By the time he was done, Bonnie had already taken a seat on the couch—her eyes watched nothing as he took a seat beside her and handed her the drink.

She seemed too occupied in her thoughts to notice him. Or to even care.

He was fine with that.

Damon took a sip of his drink and his throat burned as it slithered down and brought heat to the rest of his bones. He wasn't drunk—he'd definitely know when _that _was happening—but he was feeling a bit of a buzz that he couldn't deny.

Anytime he drank now, he had to remind himself to take it easy—because he could actually get sick or wake up with hangovers or—you know—_get liver cancer._

He took another sip anyway and he watched as Bonnie's fingers gently curled around the glass—slightly tapping it every so often—while she stared into the air in front of her. He didn't say anything at all as she seemed to be wrapped up in her own world, visiting and re-visiting her memories; he knew that she was because every so often, a smile would ghost over her lips just before her eyes went empty, again.

It was like a cycle; it was like it was biblical.

Damon shut his eyes as he leans his head back against the couch, his drink still in hand.

Bonnie's not gonna talk to him any time soon, and as long as she's sitting here, nothing's gonna happen. He might as well wrap himself into his own dreams too—

"Are we still supposed to feel like this?" she interrupts his thoughts with the beautifully melodic voice of hers that resonates straight into his ears and right down to his core as his eyes shoot open and he sits straight up. "I mean…we're _alive, _Damon…We're humans and we're _alive—_no strings and no catch… Are we still supposed to feel depressed? Am I still supposed to feel so ungrateful?"

Damon isn't sure he knows how to answer that to be honest.

Because he's depressed too, though he'd just been a lot better at covering it up—at concealing it—than Bonnie had. As for ungrateful? He wanted to slap himself every day for even _thinking _about paradise when he had his brother and Elena, here.

How could he even be thinking about how things were when he was dead when he had this—_all of this_—in his hands again? How could he even desire anything else?

Well, that was simple. That was because of Bonnie; that was because Bonnie existed. And with Bonnie, he felt something. Something he didn't have to investigate or even _explain _because she felt it too.

Everything he'd yearned for—the peace that was tragically ripped away from him; Bonnie knew what that felt like too, and she was probably the only person in the world that would understand how one person could have everything he ever asked for, finally, and still want something else.

_Someone else, too._

He loved Elena, he repeated within his head, as his eyes traveled over Bonnie's heart-shaped face, crooked smile, and extraordinary green eyes. "I love Elena," he had to say out loud, sometimes—even in the mirror—because as much as he _knew _it, he was having trouble convincing himself that was all that he felt.

And that she was the _only one _he felt that for.

Besides, how _could _you even love someone if you'd never made love to them? Much less, even _kissed _them?

Three years alone with Bonnie, and the most he could credit himself with was cuddling up to her when the two fell asleep at night, and waking up beside her and not ripping his arm away from her grasp.

He and Bonnie hadn't done _anything _other than connect with each other the way two people did when they thought it was all over—and that they were finally _dead-dead. _So why did he feel so guilty, as if he _had _done something, every time he looked into her eyes?

Why did it feel like he was hiding something from himself—from Elena—each time his thoughts stumbled upon Bonnie Bennett? Why did he find himself feeling a little bit jealous—a little agitated, even—when he found out that Bonnie and Jeremy had gotten back together, just like he and Elena had?

After all, he and Bonnie weren't anything—not even friends—so he had no right to be jealous. If anything he should have been happy for her. Jeremy was probably one of the more irritating people he knew, but hadn't he and Bonnie been through enough? Didn't they deserve to be happy together, just like he and Elena _deserved _this, too?

Things were finally back to normal—or on the way there, anyway. Elena and Stefan had found them. He and Elena and Bonnie and Jeremy got another chance. Caroline was still a neurotic twit who could bring life to any party. Tyler found a nice girl and was settling down, now, without having to be a werewolf. Matt found a job—a good one, he was a cop, now. And his two best friends, Alaric and Enzo—they were adjusting to life here as well, and though they initially hated one another, they were a few steps closer to actually getting along. They had even gotten Stefan to go out and join them for a "Guys Night" that Damon had been the only one to decline on. He told the three vampires he was feeling "sick."

It was funny how easily he could use that excuse, nowadays.

Damon dismantled his thoughts when he looked up to see Bonnie was still staring at him; just as curiously as troubled as she was before, while her pearly white teeth chewed her rosy lip and he ticked his jaw.

What the hell was even her question again? It was really, really annoying has such a short memory and attention span.

He felt like a fucking goldfish.

"I feel like I don't deserve this," Bonnie said slowly as she shook her head and swallowed some air. "All of these people fawning over me, trying to make me feel better when I just… The only thing that I _want _is to go back. I just… _I wish _that _we _could go back."

Damon's eyes lowered at that for just a second and he listened to Bonnie finally taking a sip of her drink and sniffling gently; her fingers pressed to her forehead and prevented her hair from falling over her face.

Damon took another sip of his drink as well before pressing his back into the couch again. He knew the feeling—he knew the _exact _feeling.

The question was, would it ever go away?

"Does it ever go away?" she asked almost simultaneously as his thoughts voiced the same. "I mean—do we ever stop feeling bad about being ripped out of paradise? Or do we just start feeling worse, because we realize we don't feel bad for wishing that? That neither of us feels a touch of remorse for wanting what we want?"

Damon watched on as Bonnie polished off the rest of the glass and she reached for the bottle to pour a bit more—this time, filling it almost to the top.

"Cheers," she said with a bitter smile before taking another sip and wiping the back of her lips with her hand before putting the glass down and easing her touch over her thighs.

His eyes remained completely on her.

"So," she changed the subject and sighed. "What have you been up to? I see you guys renovated everything," she lifted a weak hand to the air and Damon nodded at the words.

"Yeah, we did… Well, Elena mostly. Considering the fact that…y'know."

"What?"

"Right," she said, lighting tapping her foot. "And how's everyone else? What have they have been doing?"

"They miss you," he said softly and her forehead wrinkled as he shrugged a shoulder. "It's… different when you're not around."

"I wasn't always around before and everyone survived just fine," she said as she took a sip and he shook his head.

"This is different," he said as he tilted his head before tipping his drink at his lips. "It's…different for me, at least."

Bonnie pressed her lips shut at that and she was sure she knew just what was going to come out of his mouth next, just by the way he was staring at her; just by the way his eyes were barreling down on her.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" he asked plainly as his blue eyes met hers. "I mean—I think I know why but I just wanna hear it. I just want you to say it."

"Why, Damon? I mean, if you know why we don't talk anymore, why do I have to say it?"

"Because I need closure," he shot back—almost a bit more firmly than he meant to—as he met her stare and instantly regretted snapping the way that he did. This time, he lowered his tone. "I just… I need to hear it, somewhere other than my head, so I know it's real… So I know that it's really over."

"So you know _what's over, _Damon?"

"You and I," he replied evenly, though he felt anything but. "I just need to hear the words so that I know you and me are done."

"There isn't a you and me…or you and I," she said quickly—too quickly, as she felt her heart skipping uncomfortably and her pulse beginning to race. "Why would you ask that? We weren't together."

"Not the way that most people are, no," he said simply with a soft shrug of the shoulder. "But… I don't know, Bonnie… It was _something, _wasn't it? You and I…_had something?_"

Bonnie pursed her lips tightly as that and she took in the dead silence between her and Damon for the next minute or so; thanking everything that he was no longer supernatural because he couldn't hear her heart beating.

She was sure it was about ready to launch straight out of her chest.

"Bonnie—"

"You're with Elena, Damon. And I'm with Jeremy."

"I know that—"

"So why are we even having this conversation?" she stood up and placed her drink down on the night table. "Why are we talking about an _us _that never existed when we do have people who _are _here? That we're in love with?"

"Because I don't think it's as easy as that," he replied, standing to his feet as well—abandoning his drink to the table, too. "We spent _three years _together, Bonnie. Three years, where we thought it was the end. Where we eventually gave up on ways of trying to get back home… Three years where we _accepted _that we'd never be able to have the lives we had in Mystic Falls ever again."

"And then we were brought back," she said with sad smile. "We got a second chance—"

"We were _ripped away _from our second chance," he said as she pressed her lips. "And we're both angry because as happy as we should be to come back, it's not the same. It's never going to _be _the same."

"But I don't wanna feel that way," she said as she shook her head—feeling the onset of her tears though she was holding them back. "And neither do you. Neither of us wants to feel this—"

"But we do," he cut in as he took a step towards her. Her entire body shook as he stared pointedly into her eyes and hesitantly raised his hands so that they were at her shoulders.

Bonnie shut her eyes as she remembered the feeling of his hands—_his hands on her_—as she woke up to them every morning. As she grabbed onto them when she jumped into a waterfall for the first time. As she traced every line—every vein—within them as he stared into her eyes and she told him about this old trick her Grams used to do.

By the time she'd finished tracing his hands, though, she didn't remembered the trick; she just remembered how he felt.

Bonnie looked up into Damon's eyes and she shivered as she felt his fingers still gripping at her shoulders; still holding on.

As if he wanted to make sure that she was real—and that she wasn't going to run away from him. Not this time.

Because he hadn't quite gotten used to that, just yet; to _him _being the reason Bonnie Bennett was running away. Because for three years, he'd been the one she was running _towards._

He'd been the one she learned to rely on—to depend on. Because they were all that each other had for so long, and people didn't just _forget _that, did they?

They didn't just _give up _on the one person who knew them better than they knew themselves; the one person who had become a _part _of them.

He was a part of her in every single way she had become a part of him.

How did anybody expect them to shake that?

"I'm sorry," he said slowly, as his own eyes filled with water this time but he held it back. "I'm…sorry I didn't try harder… That you're here because _Jeremy _brought you; not because of me. You should be here because of me."

Bonnie bit her lip at that as he finally dropped his hands—the emotions filtering through his eyes roughly before he took a step away, though his stare never dropped from hers. It never even budged.

She still felt the tingle, of his fingertips pressed to her skin and she swiped over it softly as he looked on—critically and ashamedly, as he realized just how far Bonnie Bennett had fell and he hadn't been the one to break her fall.

He'd been just as selfish, self-loathing, and ridiculous as he'd always been—and instead of waiting for Bonnie to come to him, he should have went to her. He shouldn't have given her this much space or so much room to be crumbling without him.

He should have been there—he should have never left.

"It's not your fault, Damon," she said, as a tear now strolled freely down her cheek. "I just—I don't know how to be around you… I-I can't—"

"And you shouldn't want to, but you do," he filled in as she looked up and wiped her eyes. "Bonnie, I… I feel the same thing… I _know _what you're feeling."

"Then tell me it gets better," she said, as now she moved in and met him right at the face. "Tell me this doesn't go on forever, tell me that I'm not always going to be losing my mind—"

"Tell me that's there's nothing," he shot back and Bonnie shut her lips. "Tell me… there's no you and I."

The room filled with silence as Bonnie stared back at him—trying to force herself to say the words he knew she wouldn't. Her lips trembled and her fists formed as she breathed deeply—exhaling just as strongly—and his brows furrowed while he gazed into her eyes.

If she would just _say it_ he could let this go. Or he could pretend to, at least. He could go back to living in the now instead of the beautifully broken past he and Bonnie had built. He could go back to trusting in reality, instead of aching for a fantasy. He could go back to his life where he'd gotten his brother, his girl, and his best friends back—and he could reminisce about the way that he cared for Bonnie and all that they experienced, but he would finally put it behind him.

Yes, he could finally just let the past go, if she just—

"I-I can't," Bonnie stuttered as he looked up and she was shaking her head so furiously, he wasn't sure if she was trying to shake it loose or not. "I can't say that, Damon."

Damon stared at her for a moment more; his bones rattling and skin chilling as her green eyes remained locked on his as the time ticked on. She couldn't say it because it wasn't true—because she didn't _want _it to be—and deep down inside? Neither did he.

He never wanted to lose her or forget her or even regret her.

He just wanted to fill the gap in the part of him that felt missing; the part of her that felt missing, too.

And he couldn't do that if he wasn't there for her—if he didn't try harder to help her.

"I can't say it either, Bonnie," he finally replied as he let out a sigh. "I… can't say it gets better, either."

He watched as her eyes began to flood again and he took a swift step forward—almost bumping into her—as he took both of her hands into his own this time; gently feeling them for a second before she looked up and he offered a calming smile.

"I can't say it gets better, but I promise you—I won't let it get any worse."

Bonnie caught the breath that hitched in her throat that, before finally let it out with a slow but eager nod; her hands involuntarily wrapping around his before he snaked them out of them just long around to wrap his arms tightly over her shoulders.

Bonnie's face melted against the chest of his shirt almost instantly and her arms found their way around his waist as well. She breathed in the scent of his cologne as she shut her eyes. He felt a few of her random tear drops peppering his attire before he pulled away and surveyed her face.

She was so beautiful—beautiful and _broken_, like a wounded little bird that fell from the nest too soon. Much too quickly, before she'd learned to depend on herself and fend on her own.

She was a far cry from the Bonnie Bennett he'd known quite some time ago—who could give him an aneurysm without thinking and didn't hesitate at all to take on the baddest of the bad—especially if it meant she were protecting her friends.

He believed in that Bonnie Bennett—the one who could kick his ass—and he still believed in this one too.

She'd changed—they all had, honestly—but that was what time did to people.

And the fragile yet renewed look in her eyes that she had right now as she stared at him? As his hand softly trailed from her ear to her face? Love did that.

_Love brought out the best, the worst, and sometimes both in people._

"Damon?" he heard and his hand instantly dropped as his eyes traveled to the door and there stood Elena—her chestnut eyes meeting his before they casted over in surprise towards Bonnie; a light smile forming at her cheeks as she moved in and dropped her bags. "Bonnie?"

Bonnie turned around and before she could even take a breath, Elena's arms were wrapped around her tightly—just as Bonnie's had been around Damon's—and he watched on as she smiled brightly with tears in her eyes as she hugged her estranged friend strongly.

Sprouting the words about being shocked and excited that she was here—that she was letting them see her.

"I've missed you," Elena said tearfully as she pulled away and placed both hands to her cheeks. "Are you hungry? Can I make you something? There's food now, since Damon's a human," she laughed and Bonnie smiled as she shook her head and looked into her eyes.

"I—I haven't eaten all day."

"C'mon, I'll make something," Elena said happily as she grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the living room so swiftly, it was almost like she forgot Damon was even there.

He looked towards Bonnie who sent him one lasting look before both girls disappeared into the other room. He leaned down and picked up his glass of bourbon—sniffing it quickly before taking the entire thing back into a drink and clutching the glass tightly before he also headed towards the kitchen.

_He hadn't eaten all day either. And somehow, he still felt completely full of it._

**A/N; hey everyone! So I haven't written strictly Bamon in a while and this is the first canon-ish thing I've done, sort of based off of two prompts that I received on Tumblr and I couldn't help but doing. IDK if this fic will be more tbh but I just felt like writing it and I hope you all enjoyed it. I am dying for season 6 to happen so we can find out just where Damon and Bonnie have gone and how much time has passed. I'm equal parts nervous, happy, scared, etc. to find out. If any of you have any theories, shoot em my way! Anyway, thank you all for reading. Updates for at least 2 of my other Bamon fics should be done by this week or the next, so R&R to keep me motivated! & until next time, xoxo. ;)**


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